The Hazel Wood

Noticing Karen has scheduled a review of Melissa Albert's THE HAZEL WOOD for next week, I decided to post my review of it now (adapted from one first published in my May 2018 newsletter). Not having read hers yet, of course, I look forward to her reaction to the book.

In an interview around the time of the novel's publication, Albert reveals that it was inspired not only by the concept of a multiverse and motifs from classic fairy tales but also noir detective fiction:

Her Own Spin on the Traditional Fairy Tale

THE HAZEL WOOD is a mind-blowing entry in my favorite fantasy subgenre, portal fantasy. Seventeen-year-old Alice’s grandmother, Althea Proserpine, whom she has never met, wrote one collection of fairy tales that became a cult classic, then withdrew from the world to her estate, the Hazel Wood (named after a line in a poem by Yeats). Ella, Alice’s mother, never talks about Althea or the father of whom Alice knows nothing. Ella and Alice have kept constantly on the move, fleeing the bad luck that seems to plague them and everyone around them. Althea's book, TALES FROM THE HINTERLAND, is almost impossible to find; Alice got a brief glimpse of a copy before her mother took it from her. At the age of six, Alice was temporarily abducted by a stranger who claimed to come from the her grandmother. The article linked above refers to "the imperfect mother-daughter dynamic between Alice and Ella" the author has created. Albert herself asserts "families free of dysfunction don’t exist." After receiving word of Althea’s death, Ella marries a prosperous man with a teenage daughter. When the novel begins, Alice is attending an exclusive school. She doesn't get along with her stepsister and stepfather, but she has a part-time job and even a couple of sort-of friends (or at least friendly acquaintances).

With the surname Proserpine, alluding to the mythical goddess unwillingly swept away into the realm of Hades, Alice is clearly not destined for an ordinary, mundane existence. Albert acknowledges that Alice isn't meant to be instantly likable. The article describes her as "an intense and often angry young woman." In general, I avoid spending entire full-length books with unlikable protagonists. In Alice's case, however, even though she's prickly, abrasive, and prone to occasional outbursts of rage, I nevertheless sympathized with her plight and her quest.

After Alice begins to glimpse strange people who might have a connection to Althea and the fictional Hinterland, Ella and her husband and stepdaughter vanish. When father and daughter reappear within a few days, refusing to discuss what happened to them, he throws Alice out of the house. She resolves to track down her missing mother. To do that, she feels she must find her grandmother’s home, the Hazel Wood, but the only clues to its location are in an old magazine article about Althea. Alice has to turn for help to her classmate Ellery Finch, an obsessive fan of TALES FROM THE HINTERLAND, which he actually read multiple times before having his copy stolen. On their road trip, Alice and Ellery become friends or perhaps something more, while randomly encountering people who seem to step out of the pages of Althea’s fairy tales. Ellery tells Alice a bit about the stories, their tone and contents a blend of numinous and creepy. After discovering Ellery’s ulterior motive for coming with her, in shocking scene of betrayal and loss, Alice does find Hazel Wood. From there, as we'd expect, she makes her way into the Hinterland. She also learns the truth about her own past.

The magical place she discovers beyond the portal isn't a country of heroism and ultimate joy like (for instance) Narnia. The Hinterland is overshadowed by the alien, perilous aspects of the faerie world as portrayed in authentic folklore. The treatment of the familiar trope that time passes differently between that world and ours, here shown as not only disorienting but downright horrifying, particularly impressed me.

In addition to a sequel, NIGHT COUNTRY (which begins with Alice trying to lead a safe, nonmagical life in New York -- in vain, naturally), Melissa Albert later meta-fictionally published TALES FROM THE HINTERLAND itself. The stories are enthralling but dark and bloody, typically from female viewpoints, very seldom with anything like a happy ending. Examples: Sisters locked up by their stepmother must create a door of blood to escape. The moon's granddaughter seeks her mother (one of the few sort-of happy conclusions). Maidens become betrothed to monsters or mysterious entities (not gentle beast-princes under curses). Would-be mothers resort to desperate measures to have children, with horrible results. Young women attempt to make bargains with Death. They're all narrated in a hypnotically enchanting prose style.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking

My reflections on A WIZARD'S GUIDE TO DEFENSIVE BAKING, by T. Kingfisher, which Karen recently reviewed: The title alone is irresistible! This YA fantasy tale set in a secondary world is quite different in tone and content from Kingfisher’s superb adult horror novels. The only obvious similarity is that, like many of those books, this one is narrated in first person by a female character with a distinctive, witty voice.

Fourteen-year-old orphan Mona works in her aunt’s bakery. Mona’s baking talent encompasses more than mundane skills. In this world, many people have magical gifts, although more often small and specialized than big and flashy, and Mona can do amazing things with dough. She entertains customers by making gingerbread men dance. She keeps one long-lived animated gingerbread figure as a sort of pet. Her other mascot is a bucket of sentient sourdough starter named Bob. He lives in the basement because of his habit of eating animals that stray within his reach.

To recap briefly, as the story begins early one morning, Mona finds a dead girl on the bakery floor. Local law enforcement takes Mona into custody for questioning, and things get worse from there. Following her release after many hours, she’s attacked by ten-year-old Spindle, brother of the murdered girl. After Mona convinces him of her and her family’s innocence, the two of them team up to uncover the truth. A mysterious figure known as the Spring Green Man seems to be involved. Magic-users have been disappearing or dying. Aside from Mona herself, one of the few left in the city is Molly, a kindly but deranged woman whose gift is animating dead horses; she wanders around with a dried-up, nearly skeletal zombie horse. Meanwhile, their city-state is at war, and the authorities are cracking down on magical folk. In desperation, Mona and Spindle eventually sneak into the castle to appeal to the Duchess herself. As the plot thickens, Mona gets unwillingly involved in combat and discovers extraordinary uses for the baking magic she’s always seen as minor and ordinary. While fast-paced and entertaining, with moments of humor, this novel also delves into issues such as the nature of responsibility and heroism.

In common with other young protagonists in Kingfisher's fantasies, Mona considers her magical gifts trivial and unimpressive. Like her counterparts in (for example) MINOR MAGE and ILLUMINATIONS, she discovers her own true worth and surprisingly saves the day by making clever use of those modest abilities.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

Illuminations

From the review in my newsletter back when the book was first released, here's my take on T. Kingfisher's ILLUMINATIONS, reviewed by Karen last week. As she mentioned, this isn't a horror novel, like the books that made Kingfisher one of my new favorite authors, but an alternate-world fantasy for preteens (judging by the age of the protagonist, although readers of any age can enjoy it). It takes place in an alternate nineteenth-century Europe in which the French Revolution, or its local equivalent, seems to have succeeded better than in our history, for the whole continent uses the Revolutionary calendar with its renamed months and days. The heroine, Rosa, dwells in a city resembling Venice, with canals, a Dynast instead of a king, and mostly Italian-sounding names. An orphan, she lives with her eccentric but endearing extended family, one of the most distinguished lineages of illuminators. She’s practicing the art but so far hasn’t graduated to producing actual illuminations. Her favorite things to draw are radishes with fangs. Unfortunately, that image serves no useful purpose. There’s a massive reference tome listing all known illuminations, each of which must be drawn in precise, unvarying detail to be effective. Fanged radishes aren’t among them.

Against the background of a major civic project using illuminations to fix a long-term problem with the city’s sewage disposal, Rosa’s own trouble begins when she finds a mysterious box in the basement. She accidentally releases a creature imprisoned in the box, and a crow painted on the lid comes to life. His information about the history of the box and its connection to one of Rosa’s ancestors seems a bit shady, and he’s easily distracted by the urge to pilfer shiny objects. His insistence that she not tell the rest of the family about him gets her into trouble when the diminutive monster starts vandalizing their home workshop and the illuminations themselves. After the nuisance escalates into danger, though, the crow does come clean with the full truth at last. I don’t want to go into spoilery detail about the family’s fight against the malicious creature and its minions, so I’ll mention only that Rosa’s radishes play a surprising role. Meanwhile, the story nicely balances Rosa’s magical woes with her preteen-girl difficult relationship with her best friend, daughter of another important illuminator family, who’s just enough older than Rosa to start making real illuminations for clients. Like Kingfisher’s A WIZARD’S GUIDE TO DEFENSIVE BAKING, ILLUMINATIONS portrays a young heroine whose odd magical talent turns out to be of vital importance. As usual, Kingfisher writes the protagonist’s viewpoint in an irresistibly witty style.

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.

Becoming a Dark Lord/Lady

Is it possible to be a good Dark Lord (or Lady)? The term "good" in this context is ambiguous. It can mean competent, skilled at certain tasks, fit for his, her, or its purpose. Or it can mean morally and ethically virtuous. We could call Shakespeare's versions of Macbeth and Richard III "good characters," meaning they're well constructed, believable, and entertaining. But we wouldn't label them morally good. A character could be a good Dark Lord or Lady in the sense of a convincing example of a powerful villain (from the reader's viewpoint) or an expert in ruling villainously (within the fictional world). Could a dark ruler be morally good, though, or is that concept self-contradictory?

I recently read THE DARK LORD'S DAUGHTER, by Patricia C. Wrede. Fourteen-year-old Kayla is snatched from our world, along with her adoptive mother and brother, by a man who informs her she's the only child of the late Dark Lord of a realm reminiscent of the fantasy worlds in her brother's favorite movies and video games. To Kayla's dismay, everyone seriously expects her to deal with opposition and assert her power by exiling, torturing, or executing people on the slightest pretext. How can she hold her unwanted position (while working to learn enough magic to return herself and her family to Earth) without transforming into a villain? Surprisingly even to herself, she comes to care for some of the people under her nominal rule and can't just abandon them without trying to fix the more dysfunctional features of the lair and throne she has inherited.

THE DARK LORD'S DAUGHTER reminds me a bit of Ursula Vernon's CASTLE HANGNAIL, whose heroine, Molly, isn't drafted into her position but deliberately applies for it. She answers an ad seeking a wicked witch to take over a castle in need of a master or mistress. The minions of Castle Hangnail, desperate for someone to rule the estate so they won't lose their home, gradually warm to this twelve-year-old girl who does have magic but otherwise barely qualifies. To become the castle's permanent custodian, she has to check off a lists of achievements, including such tasks as smiting and blighting. Some people deserve a mild smiting, and blighting weeds in the herb garden qualifies as a dark action without crossing the line into true evil. Along those lines, Molly manages to fulfill the "wicked witch" role without becoming a bad person. Just when she's on the verge of approval as the official sorceress of Castle Hangnail, though, an unexpected visitor exposes the deception she perpetrated to get over the threshold in the first place -- but no more spoilers!

In case by any chance you've never read the Evil Overlord List, here's that exhaustive inventory of things a supervillain should never do:

Evil Overlord List

Margaret L. Carter

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter's Crypt.